The Duke in Denial (Scandal in Sussex) (13 page)

“Men can most certainly be with men; it’s only society that does not condone the practice. Do you not remember learning about how common it was in Ancient Greece?”

Sebastian lowered his head. He remembered the clusters of people entering the molly house in Brighton. That so many men might long for the touch of another man, that there were actual businesses to cater to their needs confounded him. He crossed his arms. “It’s illegal.”

William removed his hand.

“Have you ever . . .” Sebastian stammered, torn by a fear of the question being presumptuous but desperate to know the answer.

“Have I what?” William closed his eyes and inhaled.

“Kissed a man?”

William’s eyes widened, and heat rushed to Sebastian’s face. “Forgive me,” Sebastian stammered. “I should not have asked. It was unpardonable.”

“Well.” William rose and rubbed his brow. “It’s not a question one hears often at parties.”

Sebastian’s heart raced, and he lifted his eyes as William paced the tiny pagoda.

“I think you already know,” William said softly before scanning the abandoned garden. He cursed and muttered, “I may be mad. But you may marry soon and I need—”

He gazed into Sebastian’s eyes. Sebastian’s spine tingled as William leaned near, raised a finger, and brushed it against Sebastian’s face. The world stopped as William traced the curve of his jaw. Sebastian thought he heard footsteps and stiffened. The sound soon vanished, evidently belonging solely to his imagination, and with a small moan, he relaxed into William’s touch.

“Men can do this.” William grabbed hold of Sebastian’s hand and pulled him up.

Sebastian held his breath at the contact between them. His fingers tingled.

“Men can do this.” William wrapped his arms around him and guided their bodies close.

Warmth inundated him as William’s fingers grasped his waist to pull him closer. His heart pounded inside his chest.

“And men can do this.” William’s eyes softened, and he leaned his head toward him.
This is it.
William closed the distance between them until his head filled Sebastian’s vision. Warm, soft lips pressed to the side of Sebastian’s neck, and he gasped as William’s mouth trailed up to his ear.

His fingers ached, and then suddenly, his hands were upon William, touching the coarse texture of the coat.

William’s lips pulled on his earlobe, and Sebastian shivered as the stubble on William’s chin brushed against him. He inhaled, overwhelmed with the sensation of having William so near.

“And finally,” William continued, “men can do this.” He moved his mouth down Sebastian’s cheek, and Sebastian lifted his head, frozen as William kissed him roughly, this time on the lips. The world ended; no normalcy could exist after this.

Pleasure jolted through his body, and he grew warm and light-headed.

William’s tongue played on the edge of his lips, and his knees quivered as William probed farther into his mouth. William moaned, and Sebastian clutched him tighter against him, floating. They stood together, wrapped around each other, the shadows of the pagoda shielding them.

Slowly William removed himself from Sebastian. First he dropped his hands to his sides, and Sebastian shivered at the lack of contact, suppressing the urge to touch him again. Then William stepped back. “Forgive me.”

Sebastian nodded, afraid to meet William’s eyes.
Would they mock?
Was this just a schoolboy game, the kind he had heard rumors of but which he had never himself witnessed? Sebastian did not think so, but he feared looking at William all the same.

“I should go inside,” he said. “The engagement will be announced soon. You don’t have to give a speech.”

He fled from the garden before William could respond, his emotions racing. He blinked, striving to keep his breath steady as he returned to the ballroom. His body ached to return to William, but the impossibility of any future with him loomed before him, followed by an alarming thought: Had someone observed them? He hurried, dizzily, into the townhouse.

Chapter Nine

William paced the breakfast room, his impatience mounting. The startled servants had hurriedly made a fire and laid out bread and tea when he came down early. A scattering of ashes, overlooked by the housemaid in her haste, sullied the fireplace.

His thoughts returned to Sebastian. This was just what he did not want to happen. Falling for a man on the verge of marrying his sister. Of all the men in the world, why must he long for him so much?

That kiss . . . so passionate. And Sebastian’s response to the kiss indicated he felt similarly. The man had moaned and clutched at him, like a diver discovering oxygen after being trapped in a cave.

William’s heart twisted. Even if Sebastian did desire him, he had fled the garden as if he detested him.

Maybe Sebastian did detest him. Maybe he shouldn’t have instigated the kiss.

He was tired of dreaming of Sebastian. That kiss. What had it meant? He would need to find out. Before Sebastian moved to Sussex, and most certainly before he married his sister.

Purposeful strides clicked across the hardwood floor. He turned, bracing himself. Dorothea planned to meet Lady Reynolds in the morning, and likely she was up in preparation for her meeting.

His sister strode into the room. Her face flickered for a moment when she saw him. She spoke with composure, and her tone was light. “How rare to find you here at this time. It’s eight o’clock.”

“Yet you look impeccable.” William nodded at her tangerine morning dress and kissed her hand. “You always do.”

Dorothea sighed. “As do you.”

William contemplated his outfit. Perhaps the mathematical tie had been extreme. “I struggled to sleep.”

“Me too.” Dorothea’s smile seemed sad, and William stretched out his hand to comfort her.

She averted her eyes and sat down.

William returned his hand to his side and pressed his lips together, pretending she had not just avoided him. “Did you enjoy the festivities last night? Are you happy to be engaged?”

“Of course I am. That’s why I accepted the duke’s proposal.”

William rested his fingers on the table, unsure what he wanted to say. “Are you certain you want to marry him? Perhaps you want to search longer . . .”

“I don’t need to search longer. Given your habits, you wouldn’t understand.”

Heat rushed to his cheeks, and he shot her a piercing look. Surely she did not suspect his inclinations?

They had spent ample time playing together as children but almost none since he left for Harrow. He had entered the army directly from school.

Dorothea frowned. “You should marry soon.”

“I’m too young to marry. You know that. I’m only twenty-five.”

“Sebastian married for the first time when he was younger than you.”

William sighed. “He did.”

From his responsiveness to the kiss last night, William thought Sebastian had rushed into his marriage, eager to prove he was something he should never have pretended to be.

“Why must you enter a marriage in such haste? Other men are available. And you should still be in mourning.”

Dorothea flushed. “The requisite period has passed; Gregory and I never married. I can assure you I am grieving, but I do not like being alone. I’m ready to become a mother.” She paused. “I’m ready to become a duchess.”

“Then you can go about the ton setting up matches with the authority of the dear dowager.” He sighed. “Listen to you. You sound so desperate to join the
haut monde
!”

“Because I must be! Not all of us can buy an officer’s commission for eight hundred pounds and spend the rest of the time traveling.”

“War is work.”

“Of course it is, but please refrain from judging my choices. Your options are not my options.”

William cringed. He was acting irrationally, driven by thoughts of Sebastian. The meeting with his sister was proceeding horribly. They had enjoyed such pleasant times together as children. What had happened? Every time he returned on visits, she seemed more changed. She chatted more about clothes and men. William did not have anything against talking about either of those things, but he was not allowed to talk about them in the same way as she. So he did not. And they grew farther apart. “I left you too long. I should have visited more.”

“Perhaps.” Dorothea directed her eyes away from him. “I doubt you’ve ever formed an attachment.”

William did not understand what had prompted this mood. He sighed. “Perhaps you imagine me going off with every harlot in town.”

“That’s not what I think.” Dorothea stiffened. “I do wonder how I am on my second engagement and you have never even been linked to anyone.”

“You needn’t concern yourself with that.” William shuddered at the prospect of his sister discovering his secret.

He refused to explain that women would never appeal to him, or that his occasional tumbles in molly houses made him feel more alive than fighting in war ever had, even as they made him feel conflicted and made him despise himself for being so intimate with strangers.

It was, after all, against the law. Men hanged for doing such things, though not often. Lately it only happened when somebody raped another person.

“Are you saying you disapprove of Sebastian?” Her eyes held a meaningful look.

“Sebastian is a good man.” William ignored the fact that he might have a better chance of stopping the marriage if he told her of some faults. But the only things which came to his mind were inappropriate acts he wanted to do to Sebastian.
Blast.
He did not want to destroy the marriage. What if Sebastian loved his sister? He had fled the garden after the kiss after all.

“You keep praising Sebastian while trying to dissuade me from the match. If he is so good, why are you so adamant that we should not be together?”

Arguing interrupted them. The butler’s voice sounded from the front door, his voice raised in altercation with a stranger.

Dorothea looked at him, startled.

William clenched his teeth and rose from the table to investigate. “Wait here.”

He forbade himself to feel remorse. He fled the room, nearly tripping over the Persian rug Dorothea had placed in the townhouse. He slammed the door to the breakfast room behind him, startling the butler.

Fine. Let him be startled. William would be the brother with the shady past. He did not want to ruin things for his sister or for her husband-to-be. Sebastian was a duke. If word got out of a scandal, the whole ton would talk about him. He did not wish that on anyone, certainly not Sebastian.

William hurried through the black-and-white tiled hallway, avoiding the stern gazes of the portraits of Sebastian’s ancestors, and joined Doyle and the mysterious stranger. His heart beat rapidly, and he ran his fingers through his hair, desperate to compose himself.

He steadied his breath and caught a glimpse of the outside. Every house on the street was pristine; daffodils beamed in dainty flower boxes. The scene was only marred by the sight of a man in a dusty cloak who leaned against the doorway, pulling the brim of his hat over his hair.

“What is going on here?” William asked.

“Captain Carlisle?” The man approached him. Handsome in a rugged sort of way, his light beard covered a well-proportioned face.

William struggled to place him, wondering if he had been a soldier under his command.

The man thrust out his hand. “I have a note for your sister.”

William started. The man’s accent was French. William didn’t know many French in London. It didn’t help that their respective countries were on the verge of war. He glanced at the man, wondering if he should be ashamed that his first thought on discovering his nationality was pondering whether he might be a spy.

The man shifted his feet, and with a sigh, William reached for the sealed letter. The man should just pass the message to the butler like every other person. Doyle frowned when William accepted it.

“I gather you would like me to deliver it personally?”

The man nodded and dropped the note in his hand. “I would deliver the note to her myself, but she never exits the house on her own. The letter is highly sensitive. Crucial.”

William rolled his eyes. He was hardly going to commiserate with this stranger over the difficulty the man had in approaching her; he was quite pleased his sister did not wander outside by herself: at least in this she maintained her respectability.

“Well, I better be leaving now.” The man shifted his weight again.

The man must have expected him to re-enter the house. He gazed down at the note, held loosely by a black seal. Reluctantly, he returned inside, pondering why his sister received such messages. She seemed more like a stranger to him than ever.

“Dorothea!” He returned to the breakfast room. “A message came for you.”

“Oh?” Dorothea looked up from the table, her eyes slightly red.

“Yes, from a mysterious gentleman.” He paused. “Well, he did not entirely give the appearance of a gentleman. More like a swarthy smuggler.” He laughed, unable to imagine Dorothea as part of a smuggler’s ring. “Shall I read it to you?”

“Am I to understand you are jumping into a protective role?”

“I am always in a protective role,” William said crossly. He remained the man in the household.

He opened the letter, scanning the contents, ignoring his sister’s shriek.

My darling Dorothea, light of my eyes. It is I, your beloved, your treasure. Please return to Sussex soon. I will meet you at Somerset Hall.

William gritted his teeth.
A love letter.

Dorothea, who always appeared to be perfect, had a lover. Or, more probably, an effusive admirer who regarded himself in a narcissistic manner. What man wrote he was the recipient’s treasure? No signature concluded the letter.

What had his sister done to encourage this man? He looked so shabby. Or was he merely a messenger for Hammerstead? Dorothea and he had seemed far too cozy. Was that why Dorothea wanted to return to Sussex? So she could conduct affairs under Sebastian’s nose rather than the nose of her brother? Was that more comfortable for her?